The Life and Times of Alfred F Jones and Amelia M Earhart
by AquamarineEyes35
Summary: There is an unspoken rule at all countries must follow: never all in love with a human, because if you do, the human will suffer a horrible death. But what happens when a young America isn't informed of this rule, Amelia Earhart shows up, and a conflicted England might be realizing he has feeling for America? Or even worse, England's king has it out to control America again.
1. Chapter 1

America leaned back in his swivel desk chair and stretched his stiff arms above his head. He hated doing paperwork. He especially hated doing paperwork that was annual. However, this type of paperwork was done at least four times a year, in full detail.

America could deal with this paperwork if it was only once a year. America would swear that sometimes England was in charge of putting in those small little details that no one cared about.

He hated going over the quarter notes for the nation. It was bad enough that he had needed to deal with the problem when they happened, Alfred certainly did not want to have to reread the horrors of the past four months. It was only May and already Alfred had been forced to reread three separate tragedies, all of which could have been prevented. Especially the deaths of his people; it was generally very easy to keep them from killing themselves by doing something stupid.

'You have to let them make their own mistakes, America. It's a lot like raising children,' England had once told him at a World Conference after the Great Chicago fire had happened while Alfred was away in Southern Italy. Alfred didn't really remember much about that conference, but he was pretty sure that the blood on his hand was from England's nose...

Although, Alfred did have to admit to himself that he was lucky; instead of another completely catastrophic fire, America had only suffered two small fires, and neither had resulted in huge casualties. Alfred knew that he would never allow his people to become careless enough to have a repeat of Chicago. His people had become lazy when it came to fire safety measures, and Alfred was struggling to think of a way to fix it.

He flipped the folder shut loudly and stood up, thinking that he could run the problem by Teddy, surely he would know what to do.

Fairbanks strutted into Alfred's office, "Going somewhere?"

America looked up at him, "Yes."

"And where would that be?" Vice President Fairbanks asked quickly, "I hope it's somewhere important, seeing as you're supposedly an important person."

"I'm going to see Teddy," snapped Alfred, trying not to let Fairbanks get a rise out of him.

"I do not know any person around here who is referred to as 'Teddy', Alfred," Fairbanks replied smoothly, "I think you should go back to your oh so important work there and try to do a good job for once in your life."

"Excuse me?" Alfred demanded, his temper flaring, "What did you just say to me!"

"It's Vice President Fairbanks to you!" the man shot back, "I don't care if you are Mr. President's favorite intern, you will use the proper names of your bosses!"

Alfred glared at him as he made sure all his folders were closed in his desk, "I will use the names I am told use by my boss. Which isn't you. Only the President is the boss of America."

"Have you ever passed a history class, you dimwit, the President and Vice President are in charge of America," Fairbanks said as he ran his hand through his hair.

"It's the President and Congress, if you want to get technical," Alfred replied, stacking the folders on his desk to keep his hands busy and off of Fairbank's throat, "the Vice President is only there in case something happens to the President, which isn't often I might add."

Fairbanks walked towards the young man and slammed his hands down on America's desk, "You listen to me boy, I would have fired you the minute I took office if Mr. President hadn't of stepped in. I had all the paperwork signed and everything. I don't care how much Mr. President likes you, the second he shows any signs of being annoyed with you, I will convince him to sign off on those papers!"

Alfred chuckled, "I think you're going to have a very hard time trying to fire me."

"And why is that?" Fairbanks demanded, "no one can be certain to keep the same job their whole lifetime, not even an annoying, arrogant ass like you."

"I'm signed up for life," Alfred said stepping out from behind his desk and walking leisurely into the hallway.

Alfred took many deep breathes as he walked the familiar path to the Oval Office. Something really needed to be done about Fairbanks, but Alfred didn't know what he could possibly do. He knocked on the door to Teddy's office and entered. Teddy Roosevelt looked up from something on his desk and smiled at the nation.

"Hello, Alfred," Teddy said as he looked back at the report on his desk, "how is your work coming?"

Alfred shoved his hands into his old west blue jeans, "It's coming along, I suppose."

Something in the nation's voice had Teddy snapping his head up so quickly he had to rub his neck before speaking, "What happened Alfred?"

"Other than learning that my country is on the way to having another Chicago fire?" Alfred snapped, his head starting to hurt.

Teddy looked at Alfred over his glasses, "What did Fairbanks do now?"

"He told me he's trying to get me fired," Alfred said slowly, "and I had to try really hard not to explain why that was completely impossible."

"I wish that there was something we could do," admitted Teddy gently, "but Fairbanks cannot be allowed to learn your true identity, Alfred."

America shrugged his shoulders in defeat and sat down in one of the chairs set before Teddy's desk, "why is he such a jerk?" He grumbled, scrunching down in the chair.

Teddy laughed softly, "He is only a jerk to you, Alfred. To me, he is the perfect kind of Vice President. One that will do anything I say."

"Then can you tell him to leave me alone?" hopefully asked Alfred, "It would be easier to try and get my paperwork done if I didn't have to worry about Fairbanks trying to read it over my shoulder."

"I can talk to him about it," Teddy agreed, "but don't expect much to come from it. That man is determined to get rid of you. Not that he understands what would happen if you did just vanish someday."

Alfred smirked, "I have a feeling George would come flying out of his coffin to smack the ever living daylights out of you and Fairbanks."

"Oh really?" Teddy said lightly as he looked back down at the report on his desk, "he seemed like such a calm person."

"He was only calm when he had to be," Alfred replied, "which was almost all the time."

Teddy flipped over a page and read the back, "I don't doubt that."

Alfred kicked at the carpet with the toe of his boot, "Do you think we have time to go riding around Central America before supper?"

Teddy coughed into his hand as he dropped his report and gave the boy all his attention again, "Excuse me?"

"Do we have time to go riding around Central America like we used to. I'd love to see how the Panama Canal is coming along," Alfred said, trying to convince Teddy that they should get out of Washington and do something fun. It was boring staying in the same place for too long.

"If I went to see the Panama Canal right now, I would be smacking a lot of Americans, Alfred," Teddy ruthful admitted, not telling Alfred that said Americans were behaving very badly, "Are you feeling overworked? Sick?"

"I have the first quarter report sitting on my desk," Alfred reminded him, "I always feel sick and overworked when I have one of those bad boys waiting for me."

Teddy looked at him, "You know it's your duty to do them."

"I know," Alfred said, "I just wish Martha had never thought about them. I guess that's why she was a brilliant woman."

"Washington's wife?" Teddy asked, always pleased to learn what the past presidents were actually like.

America nodded as he thought about it, "It was easier when she was here though, and she always helped me get them done."

"So that's why you liked her," remarked Teddy, who was trying to figure out why Alfred would want to go to Central America of all places

"Is not!" Alfred defended quickly, red coming to his cheeks, "she was just awesome like Prussia!"

"Calm down my dear boy, it was just a joke," Teddy said. "Prussia?"

"One of the other countries," Alfred started to explain, "His big thing is how awesome he is."

"Is he?" Teddy asked, he wasn't used to hearing about the other countries.

"Well, he did help train Washington's army," Alfred shrugged, "So I guess he is. But if he's awesome, then I'm the hero!"

"Yes, Alfred, whatever you say."

America laughed, his last feelings of stress and overwork leaving him as he joked around with his boss, "You and Abe would have gotten along very well. He's the one who started using that phrase you know."

"No, I didn't know that," remarked Teddy, "I would have assumed that England was the first to use it. You did declare you were a hero when you were a child, no?"

Alfred wasn't sure how to answer, "England. He really wasn't around much when I was a kid. He raised me for a few years straight, and then went back to his country for a long time."

"So you never thought of yourself as a hero when you were young?" Teddy said, very surprised, "things like that tend to begin when you're a child."

"I didn't use it until I was a teenager," reluctantly Alfred admitted, "while I was trying to convince England that I was grown up enough to run my own country, and to let me go peacefully. It started one of our worst fights unfortunately."

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Teddy said sincerely, "I never would have brought it up if I had known."

Alfred shrugged, "It's alright, Teddy. Most people don't ask me any questions about how England was growing up. They just seem to forget that someone somewhere had to of raised me."

"It's just strange to think of nations as having normal human lives," teddy explained patiently, "I never would have assumed that you were once a lovely little toddler, I would have thought you were grown up when England found you."

"Ask England, I very much doubt that I was a lovely little toddler," laughed America, "I wish I was still away in Kitty Hawk, teddy."

Teddy sighed; he should have known the conversation would drift to this topic again. Alfred had been constantly going on about it ever since he had returned from watching history be written in Kitty Hawk. "It's been five years, what in Kitty Hawk was so interesting? I have heard that the sunsets are beautiful, but I didn't think they raised such levels of interest."

America looked at him, "The Wright brothers told you, didn't they."

"Yes, yes they did," Teddy told him sternly, "they also sent me another bill. Consider yourself the first person to ever pay to fly on an airplane, America."

"Is that all they told you?" Alfred accidently blurted out.

Teddy looked at him, "Unluckily for you, no. Alfred, you should know better than to steal an airplane and go joyriding in it."

"I couldn't help it!" he protested, "They didn't even have to teach me what to do, so I wasn't a problem for anybody!"

"But why did you do it, Alfred? Even if you are an impulsive person, this isn't like you," Teddy told him, slightly concerned, "didn't Mattie try to talk you out of it?"

"Mattie went with me," sheepishly admitted Alfred, "he wanted to do it just as much as I did."

Teddy fought the urge to slam his head down on his desk as he listened to his country talk, "Even Mattie was in on it?"

"Yes, sir," Alfred said quickly, knowing that he was really going to be in for it.

"I swear England instilled some of his pirate values into you two!" Teddy complained. "Why did you do it?" Teddy asked again.

"We wanted to fly," Alfred said awkwardly.

Teddy stood up and looked out the big windows behind his desk, "I have to give you this, Alfred, if anyone was destined to be flying, it was you. You take to airplanes the way I take to horses."

Alfred felt his jaw drop, "you aren't going to kill me!?"

"That would be hypocritical of me, Alfred. Considering I rode horses that weren't mine when I was a brash young lad," Teddy said smiling. "However, there isn't anything to be scared of with horses. Airplanes are a very different story."

Alfred smirked at Teddy, "At least I'm not scared of horses."

"You'd be scared of airplanes as well if you could be killed," Teddy called over his shoulder lightly. "Those Wright brothers are brave souls to be going up in that machine of theirs."

"That's why I should be a pilot; no one would ever have to worry about me dying!" Alfred said excitedly, his blue eyes flashing happily.

Teddy brought his hand up to his forehead and turned to look at Alfred, "please stop reminding me about how crazy this job is."

"I could be worse!" Alfred reminded him, leaning sideways in the chair and propping his head up in his hand, "I'm still a firecracker!"

"Don't show me, I might have to call England over here to drag you back in line," Teddy teased again with a smile.

America glared harmlessly at Teddy and unable to stop from asking, "Is there any way I can go flying again?"

Teddy sighed, "Yes Alfred, I'm afraid that there is a way."

"Really!" Alfred sat up straight in the chair, hoping that Teddy wasn't just pulling his leg again

"It would require you to travel," warned the President, "and not to Kitty Hawk this time."

"As long as I don't have to deal with Europe I'll be fine!" Alfred declared, knowing that almost every country over there was mad at him for some reason or another, the last World Conference had been a delicate situation.

Teddy almost smiled again, "I'm afraid that Europe seems to have bigger issues to worry about than the Monroe Doctrine, Alfred. There are a lot of countries grating on each other's' nerves right now, and they seem apt to lash out at anyone they perceive to be weak."

"Which is why we have to stay out of world affairs," recited Alfred. "That way we don't get dragged into any problems that don't concern us."

Teddy nodded, "very good, Alfred. Now then, back to the topic of you being able to fly again."

Alfred waited with bated breath, his hands curled up into fists on his knees.

"There is going to be a state fair with a very special airplane this summer," Teddy began, watching Alfred's face, "they would like to find a pilot who has no problems testing out the airplane, and hopefully taking passengers up with them."

Alfred smiled widely, "Really! They've managed to develop an airplane with passenger abilities!"

"They asked me if I knew anyone," Teddy said almost off handedly, "It seems that they're having a hard time finding a pilot, so they asked the President to look through his contacts and pull some strings."

"Cut the strings tying me to Washington!" Alfred begged, "I'll be the pilot that they need! I'll be careful and I promise not to break the plane!"

"I have already filled out everything Alfred," Teddy explained as he laughed.

"You arranged all of this without me noticing!? Teddy, I'm impressed," Alfred smirked.

"It's not hard to distract you with some extra detailed quarter reports," admitted Teddy with an evil smile.

Alfred was speechless, "You tried to sound like a tea drinker on purpose?"

"Yes."

"You are evil, teddy," America complained, "When do I leave for the fair?" Nothing could damper his mood, even finding out that his reports were made to sound like England did nothing.

"You will leave for the Iowa State Fair in two months."

"Such a long wait!" Alfred complained lightly, "Teddy?"

"Yes, Alfred?" Teddy asked; he recognized that tone of voice, "am I forgetting anything?"

Alfred asked softly, "Am I allowed to get a bomber jacket now?"

Teddy laughed as he walked towards the door, holding up one of his hands and waving as he walked away, "I see I haven't forgotten anything!"

Alfred looked out the windows in the Oval Office and he let the news sink in. He smiled his award winning smile at nothing in particular, and felt content. He, Alfred F. Jones, was going to be flying a plane at the Iowa State Fair in a bomber jacket. For a fleeting second, he wished England were here, so he could tell him the good news and see England's proud smile again. His smile fell slightly. Those times were long gone, and it wouldn't do any good to wish for them back.

Still, America had bigger problems then wanting praise from England. The rest of the world didn't believe that an airplane even existed, except for Mattie, who was Alfred's partner in crime when it came time to hijack the plane and going for a night fly.

It was another world conference that Alfred didn't remember very well. His proud announcement had fallen upon deaf ears, and England had used it as an opportunity to make America 'the childish idiot of the world' again. This was a normal occurrence, and no one paid much attention to it. That is, until Mattie stood up and started screaming profanities at England from across the room.

Most countries where terrified to actually see the Canadian in the first place, so they were beyond horrified at seeing him screaming at England with everything he had. England had just sat there, his mouth hanging open as he listened to his quietest colony yelling at him. France was staring at the pair of them with concerned eyes; this wasn't normal behavior for his little Canada to be showing. Loudly, France began proclaiming that if Canada was willing to scream at the country that controlled him, then America's strange new airplane must be real. No one listened to him; they were too captivated by the sight of the quiet country flying off the handle. However, England heard the French country make this comment and began to lose it himself.

For the first time in history, America was forced to restrain Canada from ripping someone's throat out. Cuba forced England back into a chair, and England was forced to watch in wide eyes horror as Canada fought his brother tooth and nail to reach England and kill him. Most of the other countries had fled the room in terror when Canada had tried to jump across the table, and Germany had to drag Italy from the room by the scruff of his neck to keep him safe. Only a handful of countries remained, and all of them were busy trying to keep England in his chair or trying to calm Mattie down.

The main person in charge of calming the country down was France, who was trying to reason with Canada in French, "S'il vous plaît se calmer Matthew! S'il vous plaît, ce n'est pas la meilleure façon de traiter avec l'Angleterre" (Please calm down Matthew! Please, this isn't the best way to deal with England.)

While France was trying to calm Mattie down, America was busy trying to control his brother, who really was just a tiny bit stronger than himself. After several minutes of listening to France plead to him in his soothing language, Mattie sagged in America's arms. England looked over at him hopefully, thinking that maybe he would be able to speak some sense into his crazy colony. But before England would try to say anything, Mattie began to talk first, and England understood every blasted word he said

"Je déteste l'Angleterre! Il se dirigea Alfred et moi une à plusieurs fois!" (I hate England! He's always doubts Alfred and I every time!) Canada said loudly to France, who promptly tried to calm his favorite little nation down even harder, growing more and more worried about his Matthew.

"Dude, stop talking in French, I can't understand you when you get like that," Alfred reminded his limp brother.

England glared at Canada from across the room, and began to be reminded of a certain blasted trying to become independent. He would have to punish Canada for daring to stand up to him, at a world conference no less. The British Empire would not lose another colony so easily. Canada looked from Alfred's arms and shot purple daggers at England.

Suddenly, England's blood ran cold as that cursed word came out flying of Matthew's mouth. Alfred must have finally got to him.

"Je veux mon indépendance!"(I want my independence!) Canada yelled loudly, causing any remaining countries to sprint out of the room as fast as they possibly could.

Alfred stared at his brother with wide eyes as Mattie collapsed into Alfred's chest and began to cry. He understood that phrase.

Knowing they needed to get out of there quickly if they wanted to live, France began to push the Alfred and Mattie bundle out of the room, right past England. When they were even with England, Canada straightened up and looked at his ruling country with red, puffy eyes.

"We'll talk later, Canada," England told him sternly, "when you've calmed down. I seem to have said something that deeply upset you, and I apologize for whatever it was."

Canada nodded and looked at Alfred, who watched Mattie's purple eyes harden before Mattie turned back around to look at England, "Yes, England, we will be talking later. I dare say that I will be looking forward to our little chat."

England seemed taken back, "is there anything in particular you want to discuss, Matthew ?"

"Just some new treaties pertaining to you paying me back for all the shit you've put me through since you stole me from France," Mattie told him with a smile.

England's jaw dropped, "Excuse me !?"

Mattie sighed, "Read my lips you English bastard," he told England slowly, "Alfred may have kicked your ass with strength, but I'm gonna kick your ass with brains."

"How dare you!" England exclaimed, standing up out of his chair and getting nose to nose with Canada, "I have given you an awful lot of freedom to run that country of yours, mister. Don't make me take it away !"

"Just throw some tea into Hudson Bay, Mattie," Alfred commented, "I can assure you that he doesn't like it when you waste tea like that."

Mattie nodded, "I'll remember that. Now if you will excuse me you tea drinking bastard, I have some English scum to kick out of my country."

Proudly, Mattie flipped him off before he marching out of the room, France hurried after him, not sure if he should be horrified or proud of Matthew.

Alfred stood there awkwardly, not sure what he should be doing now.

"This is all your fault," England shouted at him, "if you hadn't of been such a bad influence on your brother he wouldn't have such a blind obligation to defend all of your stupid lies ! And now you've got him thinking he can handle being off on his own ! You are a horrible big brother America, just think about how you're ruining Canada's life right now."

"Sorry, England, but I have an alliance to reinforce with my brother," Alfred said coldly before taking a page out of Mattie's book and flipping England before hurrying from the room.

The three of them missed the rest of the conference, but Alfred didn't mind. All he wanted was for Mattie to feel better. Of course, most of the other countries followed England's lead and blamed America for the whole disturbance. They forgot about his airplane completely, deciding it was the foolish ranting of a child.

"I'll show them," Alfred said, clutching his fist, "I'll show all of them."

* * *

"You summoned me, your majesty," Arthur asked as he bowed before his king.

"Rise," the King said lazily, leaning back into his red, plush throne, "I have an assignment for you." the man said bluntly.

Arthur stood up and approached the King, "What do you need me to do?"

"I supposed growing a brain wouldn't be too hard?" the King asked him, eyes narrowed in anger.

"Sire?" Arthur asked carefully, not sure what he had done this time.

"If you will recall, Mr. Kirtland, The United States announced five years ago that it had built a working airplane," the king began, "correct?"

"Yes, Sire," England answered grimly, that wasn't one of his favorite world conferences, "however, he did not offer any real proof to his claim, and most of the world dismissed him as a liar."

The King looked down his nose at him, "It is real."

"He did it?" Arthur asked incredulously, "Alf- America actually has managed to build a machine that allows people to fly?"

"Yes. And he has been able to further advance the technology unopposed because no one in the world is trying to build a better one!" snapped the King, clearly angry at this announcement.

Arthur was torn between being proud of his once colony, or worrying about why his King seemed so angry about it. HE made no comment.

"Mr. Kirtland," said the king impatiently, "if you will please try to understand the gravity of the situation."

"Yes, Sire," Arthur said automatically, his green eyes narrowing slightly. The King wasn't close enough to his country to notice the change.

"It would appear that France has been working closely with the United States for most of these past five years, Mr. Kirtland," the King informed him, "it seems that the combined forces of France and America have resulted in an airplane that can hold more than one person."

Arthur open his mouth and closed it several times, he had no idea what he was supposed to be saying.

The King glared at him, "you will be going to America to observe the contraption."

Arthur looked at his King with hesitate green eyes, "are you sure that's a good idea?"

"You will either go to the United State to closely observe it, or we will have no choice but to bribe a French scientist to tell us everything he knows," the king told him lazily,

"the choice is really up to you. I suppose we could find a Canadian one as instead if you would prefer that instead."

Suddenly Arthur understood, "you want me to go to America as a spy?"

The King looked at him, his eyes narrow and uncaring, "if that's how you choose to look at it."

"Sire?" Arthur forced out between clenched teeth. His King was confusing him greatly, and didn't seem to care that he didn't understand what he wanted.

"If you wish to look at your trip as a chance to spy on America, then so be it. Just remember that I did not tell you to go to America to spy, you told yourself that. It will save us from any awkward situations in the future," said the king with a lazy wave of his hand. "I will have a folder sent to your office to enlighten you on what you are going to be specifically looking for whilst there."

Arthur glared, "I will not do anything to ruin my relationship with America."

The King looked at his fingernails, "good. If the relationship between our countries grows any worse, I fear that America may join France to fight against us."

"Excuse me?" England couldn't help but ask as he tried to keep his temper under control, his fingernails digging into his fleshy palms, "I'm afraid I don't understand how the relationship between England and America, Sire."

The King glanced sharply at Arthur, "I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that you don't understand what has happened with America, Mr. Kirtland. Allow me to enlighten you.

"You see, America is just one mistake after another. And the blame for that falls partially on England's inability to law down the law when it needed to. The rest of the blame falls on the miserable person who raised the insolent whelp. If I could go back in time and have him strung up from the tallest try by his toenails I would." The king thought to himself for a minute, "Actually, I think I would condemn him to live in America for the rest of his lonely, miserable life."

England stared at his king with his mouth open, "what do you mean America is one giant mistake! How could a mistake still be around?"

"I was getting to that, Mr. Kirtland," snapped the King, "England turned a blind eye to that place to many times. The stupid colonists decided to grow a brain and think for themselves. Now we just need to get rid of the brain."

"Now?" England asked quickly, suddenly terrified about what his king was implying.

The king leaned on his hand as he looked down at England, "history will someday know me as the king who managed to reclaim America for Britain."

_This guy is bonkers_ England thought as he stared in disbelief.

"Once I have America back under my thumb, I will be able to turn it into the crowning jewel of the British Empire! America will fall under my rule, and I will not be as understanding of those uncivilized people as my predecessors were. British America will become the pride and joy of the Empire once again!"

"America was always the always pride and joy of England," Arthur forced out, "I'm certain England couldn't be any prouder of his former colony."

The King waved his hand dismissively, "this is not America, Arthur, and we do not have some ridiculous First Amendment stating that we are entitled to our own opinion. America's silly little government system over there will be one of the first things to go when I take over."

Arthur admitted, "I'm almost scared to know what the first thing you will get rid of is, Sire."

"Why, you shouldn't even need to ask, Mr. Kirtland," the King said in surprise, "the first thing I plan to do is destroy Washington D.C. Hopefully with the embodiment of America trapped inside of it. That should keep him out of my hair while I'm busy rebuilding America from the inside out."

England felt horrified, he knew what burning America's capitol had done to him in 1812 when America was just a fledgling country. Now that America was a large and established country, doing anything his capitol could very well be the death of him. But this was Alfred they were talking about, and England found himself relying on America's inner strength to keep him alive for the next few years. If America had been able to break away from the British Empire as a teenager, America would be able to hold off the British Empire now that he was a rapidly developing superpower.

"I would like for you to figure out the possible way to obtain America's knowledge on flying," the King said suddenly. "I have a feeling that we will need superior airplanes if we are to ever have a hope at retaking America."

"Yes, your Majesty," Arthur choked out, his fingernails slicing into his fleshy palms.

"Go now. I will arrange everything for you, and you will soon see this paperwork on your desk," the king recited easily, pleased to see the younger looking man below him squirming in discomfort.

Arthur forced himself to bow to the king before leaving the room, and then he refused to let himself scream and carry on the way he wanted to. Victoria would come back from the dead to beat the snot out of him if he did anything to deliberately mess up her home.

"Job well done, Alfred," Arthur whispered to himself, knowing Alfred would never hear those words come from his lips, "you really are the pride and joy of the English Empire."

* * *

Amelia stormed into her house at exactly 5 o'clock, her younger sister trailing behind her, evidence of their mischief still showing on the knees of her bloomers. "Is father home yet!" she demanded loudly, firmly planting her hands on her hips.

Amelia's mother sighed and turned to look at her daughters, potato in hand, "He will be home in ten minutes, Amelia. Just like always."

"But he said he has a surprise for me and Grace!" Amelia asserted, "That means he's coming home early!"

"Amelia, you are ten years old, use proper grammar," admonished her mother as she turned back to the sink to continue peeling potatoes for supper, "and that isn't his surprise."

Grace looked up from where she was trying to rub away a stubborn grass stain, "Are we moving again?"

"No, dear," her mother sighed, "we did just move here after all."

"There's hardly any children to play with!" Amelia said loudly, "and they all make fun of me and Grace for wearing bloomers!"

Their mother paused for a moment, "Are they now, Amelia?"

"Yes," Amelia repeated, "they said that girls aren't allowed to wear them to school either!"

"Of course you're not allowed to, Amelia," her mother lectured, "and you won't have to worry about going to school in August. Grandmother has decided that she is going to homeschool you girls instead."

The front door to the small house opened and a manly voice called out, "I'm home!"

Grace scuttled out of the kitchen and into the living room, where their father had dropped his things so he could pick her up as she ran towards him, "Hello Grace, sweetie. Have you been a good girl today?"

"Yes!" she squealed loudly as her father swung her around.

"Then explain these lovely grass stains on your bloomers," he demanded with a smile, setting his youngest daughter back on her feet.

Grace looked around guiltily, "Amelia and I were playing."

"I should have known it was Amelia's doing," he rolled his eyes at his eldest daughter, who was staring at him with a furrow between her eyebrows. "Yes, Amelia?"

"You said you had a surprise for Grace and I," Amelia reminded him, crossing her arms over her chest, "you're home now, so you can tell us what it is!"

"Not until after supper," Amelia mom said as she walked into the room to give her husband a kiss on the cheek. "girls, go get cleaned up for supper."

Grace hurried out of the living room and her footsteps could be heard pounding up the stairs to her room.

"That means you, Amelia," her mother gently reminded her, "now."

Amelia scowled at the pair of them and trudged out of the living room, and proceeded to drag her feet up the stairs. Grace had already changed into a fresh pair of bloomers and was walking back down the stairs, "hurry up, Amelia! Mom was making French fries!"

Amelia entered her room and dragged out one of her skirts. She didn't particularly care for wearing bloomers all the time like a boy. On the other hand, she didn't want to wear skirts all the time like a typical girl either. Having put on her skirt, she went into the bathroom to try and wipe some of the mud off of her nose. Grace had a good arm for pitching, so it made sense to Amelia that she could throw a mud pie with some velocity behind it.

Everyone settled around the table and Amelia's mother began to fill their plates with chicken breasts and peas.

Grace looked around the table for the French fries, "Mother, where are the French fries?"

"I didn't make any," she answered, giving Grace a bigger helping of peas, "I'm making chips out of them."

After several minutes of no noises except the gentle clinking of silverware against the plates, their father set his knife and fork down on the edges of his plate. "Now then girls, I have something to ask the two of you."

"Yes?" they asked at the same time. Amelia was hoping that this was the surprise that he had been hinting at for almost a week now.

"How would you girls like to go to the State Fair?" he asked, smiling. "It's going to be a real shindig this year, I'm told."

"How would you know," Grace asked quietly, "we just moved here."

"The man who gave me the tickets told me about it, grace," he answered, "they're even going to be bringing in a biplane that will take people up for rides."

"A real airplane?" Amelia asked excitedly, "how does it work?"

Her father shrugged, "Who knows, those Wright brothers just managed to get lucky in my opinion. I hardly think that airplanes are going to become a mainstream thing, Amelia. They aren't safe, and this is the first airplane I've heard of that can handle passengers."

"When is the fair," Grace asked as she pushed her peas around her plate.

"In about nine weeks," her mother answered, "just enough time for me to make some chips to take along as food."

"Father?" Grace asked, "Did we move to Iowa just to go to this fair?"

Her parents chuckled. "No darling," her mother answered, "your father's job made him come out here. Not the fair."

"Oh, well then that's good!" Grace declared, taking a big bite of peas and then gagging on the taste, "I hate peas."

* * *

Authors Notes:

EDITTED 8/27/2013

Thank you to Alice Emmaline Kirkland for pointing out that I missed a translation up there! Now everyone will know what Mattie is screaming at England!


	2. Chapter 2

"God damn the King," Teddy Roosevelt growled under his breath as he reread the dirty crumbled telegraph for the hundredth time. It was particularly rainy day in D.C, and Teddy wanted to do nothing more than catch up on some sleep. But no, the King of England had decided to contact him instead.

"I don't get paid enough to deal with this," Teddy muttered as he tossed the telegram onto his desk and looked out his dark windows, "It's bad enough trying to stay here without Alfred noticing."

Teddy grimaced as he stretched his sore neck out painfully. Alfred was hard enough to deal with on a normal work day, so working with Alfred while trying to keep a secret from him and keep him from killing the Vice President was wearing Teddy out.

"Colonel Roosevelt?" an office add asked quickly as he knocked on the door frame, "there's another telegram from England for you."

Teddy sighed and took the folded piece of paper from the boy, "Thank you, Scott. I hope you aren't missing any time with your family tonight."

Scott the office intern smiled at the President briefly, "No sir, I'd just be at home with my folks tonight."

"I was under the impression you were married, young man," Teddy remarked lightly as he ripped the fancy envelope open.

"Just waiting to be married, Colonel" Scott blushed, "is that telegram really from England?"

Teddy Roosevelt glared at the piece of paper held in his hands, "I can assure you that it is. Would you like to see it? It reeks of wasted money and rotten wealth."

Scott took the offered telegram and glanced at it, "Colonel, did this person really feel the need to use English longhand in a telegram?"

"Read who it's from," Teddy sighed as he brought his clasped hands up to his mouth, "then you'll have your answer."

Scott's eyes widened, "Edward VII of England! The King of England sent you a telegram, Colonel!"

"Yes he did, would you please take my reply down to him after I write it out," Teddy asked promptly, "It is now 2:30 in the blasted morning, and I would like to have this meeting over with as quickly as possible."

"Would you like me to bring you anything, Colonel?" Scott asked like the good little intern he was, "Coffee, tea?"

Teddy began writing his reply on a nearby notepad, "Just water, Scott would be fine."

Scott nodded and hurried out of the room to fetch the President some water while he answered the telegram.

Dear President Theodore Roosevelt, Winner of the 1906 Noble Peace Prize,

Allow me to begin this message with my congratulations on your many achievements, not many countries would dare send their Navy on a last minute trip around the world just to see if they could do it. Now, to get down to business, I would like to talk to you about sending over a highly important English reprehensive to stay with you over the summer months. He will be through in his work, and will not cause any international disturbances. All his traveling expenses will be covered by the crown. He will be there to observe the United States of America's advancements on the field of aeronautics. I would like for you to grant him permission to come over to your country and stay with you and the embodiment of the United States of America for the duration of his stay.

Sincerely yours, God save the King,

King Edward VII of England

"Are you done sir?" Scott asked as he set a glass of water down on the desk.

"Scott, should I copy this money waster, or stay true to myself," Teddy asked as he pondered the paper before him.

Scott looked at the President in shock, "You're The Colonel, Colonel, and whatever you say is going to be received well."

Teddy spared the boy a smile, "then that this to the operator immediately with my apologizes. It's going to be a long meeting."

Who when

Several minutes later, Scott rushed back into the President's Office, "We got the reply Colonel!"

Dear President Theodore Roosevelt, Winner of the 1906 Nobel Peace Prize,

Thank you for the quickly reply. I hope this means that our meeting will go quickly and smoothly. The man selected to travel to the United States of America is a fellow by the name of Arthur Kirtland. We would like to send him out within the week, but that depends on your speedy reply

Sincerely yours, God save the King,

King Edward VII of England

Scott glared at the waste of money written in the King's telegram, "Those English bastards must be swimming in gold and tea, Colonel!"

"Ask Mr. Jones about strange English habits when you get the chance," Teddy remarked as he opened a desk draw to reply to the English King's latest waste of money. He paused and thought to himself for a minute, "Scott?"

"Yes, Colonel?"

"I realize that it is now 4:30 in the blasted morning, but do you think you could do me a huge favor?" Teddy asked sleepily, "I'll reward you something wonderfully."

"You don't need to do that, Colonel," Scott said with a smile, "what do you need me to do?"

"Send out the word that D.C is under a day of rest today, and just tell people if they ask that I was dealing with England all night long," Teddy said tiredly, "I don't think I'd be able to function properly without sleeping the whole day away."

Scott grinned, "Yes, Colonel!"

Teddy held out his written message to the eager man, "take this with you as well. There shouldn't be a reply, but you never know what the English will come up with next."

He leaned back in his desk chair after Scott had scampered off and roughly rubbed his eyes. Normally he wouldn't have any problem staying up an extra 12 hours to deal with some national problem, but there were not normal times. Europe was more of a threat to the United States right now than any realized, and Teddy was determined to make her seem less vulnerable. He had been carefully watching the events that took place in Europe as well as Central America, and he was very worried about what the world was coming to. It would be more important than ever for Alfred to stay on good terms with the other countries. Which meant keeping Alfred hidden away for another few years, because that boy still hadn't returned to most countries' good graces after he announced his successful flight, something that should have sparked interest in the world, but instead had caused chaos.

"I don't understand, Mr. President," Francis had said to him privately when he had pulled a crying Canada and America into the White House, "I have never seen the countries refuse to accept something like this so strongly."

Teddy rubbed his eyes quickly at looked at the tall nation, "Wait, they didn't believe us?"

"Not at all," France said sternly, eyeing the door where Canada and America had vanished into, "I know I should have tried to warn you that I was showing up with them, but there was no time, Monsieur."

"No, it's not a problem," Teddy said sleepily, "I should just be grateful that someone over there was willing to help those two out for once."

France started, "Has your country been receiving no word from other countries!?"

"Non," Teddy replied in French, "this incident has only increased to do something reckless and Alfred-like."

That earned a small grin from an irate France, "May I ask what you are planning to do, Monsieur?"

The President paused for a moment before sighing and turning to the country, "How would the country of France like to enter into a formal agreement with the Unites States?"

France was taken back, "Monsieur?"

"I want to try to expand on the Monroe Doctrine," Teddy admitted, "I wasn't sure if I should, but tonight has convinced me that something needs to be done."

"And what would you like France to do, Monsieur; would you like France to stand behind you?"

"Not in the way you're thinking," Teddy said quickly, "I don't want you to misunderstand my intentions."

France waited patiently, for this man, he would wait.

"This is the one of the only ways I can think to try and keep Europe away from America. We are weak, France, and I do not wish for Europe to finally realize it."

"We will support you."

Teddy nodded, "thank you. When you return home, please talk to your boss about improving our relations. I believe that we could both develop the art of flying to new heights."

"I must go to the boys now, Monsieur President," France said softly, "Go to bed, and in the morning we shall talk."

Teddy stood outside his front door a while longer, thinking to himself how glad he was that he didn't have a Vice President to try and control.

"Colonel?" Scott asked as he walked back into the room, "do you need anything else? The telegraph operator says it will talk about half an hour to get the next reply, someone else is using the same frequency currently."

Teddy looked up at the boy, "I would like you to go into Mr. Jone's office and grab something for me."

Scott hesitated, "is that's going to be alright, Colonel?"

"Are you questioning my authority?"

"No sir!" Scott said quickly, "it's just that Mr. Jones is always telling everyone, even you, not to take anything from his office!"

Nodding, Teddy told Scott, "I can assure you that this will be fine with Mr. Jones."

"Yes, Colonel."

Teddy pulled out a brass key from his left drawer, "this key will unlock the door."

Scott took it carefully, "this is a very old key, isn't it?"

"The same key from when they built the White House a second time," Teddy answered as he held up a more modern, silver key. "This will open Mr. Jones filing cabinet."

Gingerly Scott took the key from Roosevelt's hand, "What file do you need, Colonel?"

"Bring me the file on Arthur Kirtland, Scott. You will find it inside a larger file called, 'England,'" Teddy told him carefully, "be very careful not to read anything, because it is highly classified and dangerous."

"Yes, Colonel," Scott said nervously as he walked out of the Oval Office.

Roosevelt waited patiently for Scott to return.

Scott set the thin folder on the President's desk, "Why don't I go check with the operator and see how the response is coming?"

"That'll be fine," Teddy commented as he pulled the file towards him and opened it, settling down in his chair to read.

"So this is England," Teddy muttered to himself as he leafed through the pictures inside the file. "No wonder Alfred refers to him by 'eyebrows', good lord are those things large.

"I can tell he used to be a pirate…his credentials are impressive, but how true are they,' Teddy mused, "if I remember correctly, he spend the whole Noble Peace Prize ceremony complain that America had been the country with a winner."

Scott knocked on the doorway, "The reply is high garbled, sir. The operator did manage to give me the jist of the message though."

Teddy flipped the file shut and looked at the young man, "well?"

"Mr. Kirtland will be arriving on the ship S.S New York within the month, sir. We couldn't understand when the ship would be leaving, but the operator told me that he would check the sailing schedule for you."

Opening on of his locking desk drawers, teddy slipped Arthur's file inside of it. Scott set the keys down on his desk, and Teddy put them in their proper places. "Thank you, Scott."

"It's my pleasure, Colonel," quickly replied Scott.

The grandfather clock in the Oval Office began to chime.

_Dong_

"Is the message about D.C delivered?" Teddy asked Scott quietly.

"Yes, Colonel."

_Dong_

Teddy looked out his every lightening window," I see the rain has stopped."

_Dong_

Scott said carefully, "Colonel, I think you should best be getting to bed now. You'll have a long day tomorrow to catch up on today's work."

_Dong_

Teddy pulled his curtains closed, "Let's head home now, Scott. England has caused America enough problems tonight."

_Dong_

"Yes, Colonel."

* * *

England sighed and leaned up against the back of his train seat. He didn't particularly enjoy traveling by train, he'd rather take a boat everywhere, but that was his inner pirate talking. England was very pleased that he didn't have to worry about his luggage other than packing it. The King had assured him that it would be dealt with. All England had to worry about was America and his plane. He closed his eyes.

If England was honest with himself, he really didn't want to be going to America at all. It wasn't that Arthur was worried what this meeting with Alfred would be like, no not at all. Arthur was worried what would happen when Alfred figured out that England was only coming to visit because he was forced. Or, even worse, forced to go to America in order to steal something wonderful from him. They were just beginning to repair the bond of trust that had been broken by the war, and now England was going to take something from Alfred just out of pure greed.

England didn't want to make this trip. He wasn't sure his heart could take it.

* * *

"Amelia, what's the fair going to be like?" Grace asked again when she turned a page in her book.

Amelia looked up from her math homework, "I told you already, I don't know what it's going to be like, Grace."

Grace nodded absent mindedly as she became absorbed in her book again. Amelia sighed and looked back down at her math homework.

The girls were holed up inside of Amelia's room after one of their usual tense family suppers. Amelia was stretched out on her bed with a math book and plenty of scrap paper surrounding her. There were many crumpled balls of paper littering the floor around where Grace was stretched out on her back reading a book.

Grace paused in her reading and glanced over at her sister, "why are you doing so much extra math?"

"Because I feel like it," Amelia said as she worked through a particularly difficult problem.

"It's not anything to do with airplanes is it?" Grace asked reluctantly.

Amelia glared at her little sister, "you focus on your English over there, and let me worry about my math over here."

Grace rolled her eyes and glanced back at her book, "why are you even bothering to do all that silly math anyway? We're girls, Amelia, we're not even supposed to finish high school."

"Tell that to mother," Amelia remarked, "I want to see her smack those words right out of your mouth."

"You know it's true!" Grace defending, "we're both gonna go get married!"

Amelia snorted, "Sure thing, Grace, you can do that if you want. I don't want to."

Grace sat up, "You don't want to get married?"

Amelia shrugged the best she could, laying on her stomach on her bed, "it doesn't really interest me. Now, may I please get back to work on this problem?"

"I guess so," grace admitted. "Hey, Amelia?" Grace asked after several moments of silence, "why don't you just take your problems with you when we go to the fair? I bet that the pilot would be able to answer all your questions for you."

Bolting upright on her bed, Amelia laughed joyously, "That's a brilliant idea, Grace!"

Grace smiled.

Amelia bounded off her bed towards her door, "I'm going to go ask Father if it's alright with him!"

Quickly, but quietly, Amelia hurried out of her room and down the staircase of her house. She whizzed through the living room towards her father's office room, ignoring the sounds of mad ranting and raving within its closed door.

She knocked quickly and opened the door, "Father, I have a-"

She pulled up suddenly and hid behind the partially open door, glad her father's back was to her. His nice collared shirt was wrinkled and pulled out of his pants in all the wrong places, and buttoned up the wrong way. A foul stench rolled out of the room and Amelia gripped the edge of the door tighter as her father spun around in a staggering circle. She saw the fancy bottle of amber liquid clutched in her father's white knuckled fist. He swung the bottle up to his lips and took another long draw from it, before swaggering into an armchair facing away from his hiding eldest daughter.

Amelia ran back up the stairs, unwilling to admit that she was frightened.

* * *

If you guys would like a way to be updated about the status of upcoming chpts, feel free to PM me an email address to let you know, or you can check out my journal on DeviantArt, which will be regularly updated with the status of this fan fiction. Just type Sango-Armash into the search bar on Google or DeviantArt and my page will come up. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**April 27th, 1908**

"Mr. Kirkland, your inability to pay attention astounds me," the King snapped as he paced his throne room, the heels of his shiny black boots clicking off the stone floor.

Arthur sat in his hard wooden chair silently, staring at the floor so Edward couldn't see his eyes burning.

"How could you not see that allowing the Yanks to carry their own flag was going to be a bad idea? I had a hard enough time convincing the committee that we shouldn't hang their flag above the stadium in the first place, but no, you allowed them to carry their own as a replacement! And then what did they do, Mr. Kirkland, what did those god damn Yankees do!?" Edward screamed at England, spit flying from the corners of his mouth.

"Acting like proud Americans, Sire," England said with a very slight smirk.

The veins on Edward's forehead starting bulging, "they disrespected the King of England!"

Arthur nodded, "I'm aware, Sire."

"How dare they think that they are above me! I am the bloody King of England for crying out loud! I refuse to allow those whelps to believe they have gotten the upper hand!"

"I've already sent a message to America about the situation, Sire," lazily replied England, "you can expect a reply soon, I hope."

"Hope has nothing to do with it," Edward told him sternly, "hope is one of the reasons we lost America in the first place. England _hoped_ that she could just go in and fix everything and it would all be fixed. We were fools."

Arthur raised one of his bushy eyebrows, "one of the reasons, Sire?"

Edward waved one of his hands quickly to stop Arthur, "this is not the time nor the place for this conversation, "Now, I have a problem with you, Kirkland."

Edward continued, "Do you really think that gallivanting about in America while we are hosting the Olympics is a good idea! You are needed in your own country!"

"Sir, you're the one who's sending me to America!" England finally retorted, unable to hold it in for any longer.

Before Arthur could blink again, Edward was right in his face, "Did you just question me, you worthless wanker!

"How dare you! You, the representative of Great Britain, is question his King! I wish that blasted personification would show his damn face around here, just so I would be rid of your filth, Mr. Kirkland!"

Arthur resumed sitting in silence, waiting until Edward would run out of steam and finally send him on his way.

Edward pushed himself away from Arthur and resumed frantically pacing his throne room. "You are leaving just when I need you most. Can you believe it!? I actually need your lazy arse for something, God IM must be going bonkers trusting you with anything of this magnitude!"

England's fingernails slowly began to slice their way into his palm.

"I suppose you are better than the sodding halfwit who actually represents my country," Edward admitted reluctantly, "if he was finally found, I might have to kill the arse for the damn revolution."

"That wasn't England's fault," Arthur heard himself saying before he could stop himself.

Edward puffed up," yeh are a disgrace to the pommy people! How could yeh possibly think that the colonies revolution was our fault! Jesus man, pull y'r head out of y'r fanny! The first thingamajig I'm going to dae when we take over colonies again is make sure that any mentions of the blinking revolution are gone! The world will forget the brief span of history were Britain lost her colonies, and they will simply remember that Edward VII was the pukka man to get em back. Starting with colonies!"

Arthur watched as his palms slowly began to well with red blood, he was squeezing his hands so tightly. Edward had a nasty habit of speaking like a common person when he went off on one of his many crazed rants.

"And you will be exiled you blinking traitor!" Edward yelled at Arthur, once again get right in his face, "I will send you to the darkest parts of my new empire when I get the chance!"

Arthur watching him with wary green eyes, forgetting about the small pools of blood collecting in his palms.

"I hate your eyes!" Edward screamed, "such a nasty shade of green they are."

For some reason, this seemed too visibly affect Arthur, who wilted slightly under Edward crazed gaze.

Edward nodded his approval at the man, "I'm glad to know that even you know your eye color is horrible. And don't even get me started on those hideous things that are sprouting over your eyes. They almost looked better than your green eyes, you sodding wanker."

Arthur focused on the small pool of blood forming in his palm, he kept squeezing his nails into his hands so the wound wouldn't have time to start clotting.

The King started pacing again, ignoring England's hands and the blood that was collecting on them, "You shall fulfill your American mission with a 100% success rate, am I understood?"

"Yes, Sire," England said dully, knowing that he would never be able to do enough to appease his crazy king.

"You will also be held responsible if anything else goes wrong with the Olympics, Kirkland."

England looked up at this, mildly pissed off, "Sire, I won't even be in the sodding country, how could I be responsible?"

Edward glared, "the file is on your desk, and therefore it is your neck on the line when everything goes wrong. Suck it up, Kirkland, interns get the shit jobs for a reason."

Arthur sighed, wishing that his beloved Victoria was still around. She would be smacking the ever living shit out of her son if she was here. "Yes, Sire."

"I'm glad we understand each other." Edward turned away from Arthur, "We will not be seeing each other until the day you depart, is that clear? I will be giving you the paperwork you will need in order to fulfill your mission in America."

"Yes, Sire," England said dully, knowing he wouldn't read the paperwork unless hell was freezing over. Or if Alfred was apologizing for the revolution. Although, for that to happen, hell would have had to of suffered and ice age for that to happen. Or perhaps a good boot to the head…

Edward turned and strode back over to Arthur, his dark red cloak trailed out behind him, "then if I have made myself clear, you are free to go back to your duties."

Arthur nodded his head as he stood up, and reflexively put his hand into Edward's waiting one. Arthur felt his hand receive a brief squeeze, and then he felt the sting hand that came upside his face.

Arthur's head snapped to the side as Edward examined his now bloody hand. Carefully England opened his mouth a wiggled his jaw around and he gingerly touched his stinging cheek with his fingertips; the slimy feel of blood was there. Edward had smacked him with his blood covered hand then.

"Give me one reason," Edward said through clenched teeth, "why I shouldn't fire you now and send you to bloody gallows."

"Sire?" England watched the King with bated breath, hoping that he wouldn't turn violent or do anything stupid.

"You soiled my hand with your tainted blood, you green eyed freak. You also got blood on my royal rings!" spat Edward, who closed his blood covered hand into a white knuckled fist. "You may have been a dear friend of my mother, but you aren't a dear friend to me."

Edward roughly sighed and held out his other hand, "let's try this again."

Again, England acted on instinct, and as Edwards hand clasped his, the pool of blood that had once been carefully cupped in England's palm began oozing out between their clasped hands and dripping onto the floor. England's hand was suddenly in a vise grip, and he was yanked forward, off balance.

"You green eyed scum," Edward said lowly into England's ear, "you made sure that there was blood on both your hands. It seems to me that you enjoy it when I have to beat the shit out of you, Kirkland. Is it some sort of kink?"

Instead of taking it like the good little country he was supposed to be, England decided to break one of his rules when he noticed as Edward pushed him back and brought his fist up.

He was going to use his nations strength to kick Edward's pompous ass. Arthur easy caught the fist Edward had been throwing at him, and Arthur twisted his arm to the outside to get Edward off balance.

Edward smiled grimly as Arthur pulled him by his slightly twisted wrist. With his right foot he ground his heel into England's toes, and while Arthur was momentarily distracted, let loose his other hand.

Arthur felt the crack that was his nose as it broke, and the warm gush of blood that started to flow over his lips. He yanked Edward towards him and jammed his knee into Edward's ribs before pushing his King away from him.

"Have you had enough? Edward asked sarcastically, his Welsh accent coming out strongly, "or are you ready to crawl back into your bed and cry yourself to sleep?" For some reason, Edward hardly seemed to notice that Arthur had just broken three of his ribs, and possibly sprained his wrist. He glared at Arthur with barely concealed contempt.

"Well?" Edward prodded, poking Arthur in the chest with a ringed finger, "what you do have to say for yourself, Kirkland?"

England glared at the man as he carefully collected some of the blood dripping from his noise into his mouth. When he couldn't stand the metallic taste any long, Arthur did something to King Edward that Alfred had once done to him when he was very small. Spit a literally bloody wad of spit into his face.

Edward grimaced as the wad of spit slowly crawled its way down his face, the blood leaving a light pink trail behind. "Get out!" he pushed Arthur away with his hand.

Arthur didn't wait to see if this was a trap or not, he turned around and started walking quickly out of the throne room. _I must be getting old_ Arthur thought as he felt Edwards arm tighten around his throat as Arthur was almost to the door. With a grace that comes from a thousand years of practice, England leisurely flipped Edward over his shoulder and smashed him into the ground, flat on his back. As Edward lay on the ground, momentarily winded, Arthur did the only thing he could think of to do at the moment.

Run.

* * *

**May 13th, 1908**

Scott the office intern hurried through the growing crowd of White House workers gathering outside the President's office. Mr. Roosevelt had posted Scott outside of his office door with a list of phrases to listen in for. If any of them were said, Scott was to immediately run for Mr. Jones to start his meeting. However, Mr. President hadn't told Scott how fast to run if Vice-President Fairbanks uttered every phrase on the list back to back with each other. Scott had a feeling that there wasn't enough hurrying in the world he could do to save the Colonel's vocal chords by this point.

Knowing it was potentially dangerous, Scott knocked loudly and briefly on Mr. Jones office door before flinging it up and casually leaning to the right. The hammer passed by the left side of his head by mere inches.

"Mr. Jones, the President would like you to report to your meeting now," Scott told Alfred, who was glaring up at the intern from his paper work covered desk.

Alfred sighed as he dropped his back up hammer and closed one of his many open folders, "and that couldn't have waited for me to get up and open the door for you like a civilized person?"

Scott took a deep breath and braced himself, "Fairbanks said all of the phrases on the list within a 90 second span, Alfred."

Alfred was beside him and halfway out the door before Scott had even noticed he'd left his desk, "clean up for me Scott! And for God sakes don't look at anything!" Alfred called as he dashed down the halls of the White House.

Scott made sure he rounded the corner without flying into the wall (again) before he walked calmly into his office and started straightening the piles up. However, Scott stopped when he found a piece of paper with writing he was all too familiar with. He carefully picked it up, and after briefly scanning it he realized it was a letter to Mr. Jones. Nodding to himself, Scott picked up the rest of the letter and placed it inside the envelope, meaning to leave it where Mr. Jones would be certain to see it. Instead, Scott slipped the letter into his coat pocket, curiosity and the need for something familiar getting the better of him. Knowing it would be folly to linger any longer, Scott made certain to secure Mr. Jones's office door and hurried back towards the President office.

* * *

Alfred approached the seething crowd by Teddy's door with disapproval, "Let's get back to work shall we? Fairbanks will be looking for someone to vent his spleen on when I kick him out of that meeting."

The crowd quickly vanished and Alfred solidly knocked on the door, giving the men clear warning before he opened it and walked in with a lazy smile.

Fairbanks spun around on his hells to glare at the man, "what do you think you're doing Jones? I'm current in a meeting with your boss. Now clear out!"

"As I tried to tell you half an hour ago, he has an appointment," Teddy snarled from his standing position behind his desk. Clearly it was the only thing keeping him from throttling his Vice-President.

"He wasn't in the books last night," Fairbanks asserted again, "so move it or lose it, Jones!"

Teddy slammed his hands down on his desk, rattling his lamp, "I am busy with Mr. Jones, and he is going to be helping me with the follow up meeting with Edward VII of England!"

Fairbanks blanched, "the King of England wants a follow up meeting?"

"Of course he does," Alfred inserted smoothly, "after all, the King is nothing but through, and he was given quiet a lot to think about during our last meeting."

Fairbanks looked between the two of them several before firmly setting his mouth and stiffly walking out of the office.

Casually, Alfred leaned over and locked the door, "You've been speaking with the King of England."

Even though it wasn't phrased as a question, Teddy answered and he fell back in his chair in exhausted, "yes I have."

Alfred sat down in one of the chairs before Teddy's desk, lazily hitched his legs up so his feet were resting on Teddy's desk, "anything to be concerned about?"

Teddy, for the first time in recorded history, fidgeted, and Alfred's feet crashed to the ground with a loud thump. "I'm afraid there might be."

"My God man! What's wrong?" Alfred demanded in horror. Teddy Roosevelt was the last person in the world to fidget over anything.

"I'm afraid this discussion must wait until I can certain we are not being overheard," Teddy said very gravely. "However, do I have an extremely important matter of business to discus with you. Please, try to remain seated."

Alfred waited as patiently as Alfred Jones could wait for his boss to continue.

"A Mr. Kirkland is being sent over from England," informed Teddy carefully.

"Kirkland, you say?" Alfred said with forced nonchalance, "I might have heard that name before. I believe it's filed under the bloody asshole folder in my office."

"I dare say you have heard the name," Teddy comment dryly, "and you better not have a folder like it, what would happen if Fairbanks managed to find it?"

Alfred looked at Teddy and laughed, "If Fairbank's managed to get that far into my office without a boot to the head, we'd have a matter of international security to worry about. I highly doubt he'd get anywhere near my folders."

Teddy nodded, "that's true. Although a boot to the head does sound like it might be worth charging admission just to lure him into your office. Anyway," Teddy said suddenly, stopping his musings at once, "there is another matter I must discuss with you, and it makes the Kirkland issue seem like nothing."

"If you say Ivan next, I swear I'm going to resign," Alfred said as he put his head in his hands.

"You are aware that Scott is due to be wed to a lovely young lady in the coming month?" Teddy asked before Alfred could find a loophole that would let him go on vacation.

Alfred lifted his head and grinned, "of course. She's a nice person, pretty as a picture."

Teddy grinned, "It would just so happen she is in need of someone to walk her down the aisle. I would, but I am going to be busy hosting the wedding and Scott has asked me to be his one of his groomsmen."

"I would have assumed you'd be the best man, Teddy," Alfred said.

"I wouldn't want it," Teddy replied quickly, "I know that young man has other friends who would love the job, but it seems that Scott has decided to choose one of his friend's from his old job."

Alfred shrugged this off, "He can do whatever makes him happy. But Teddy, are you sure I should walk Ellie down the aisle?"

"Of course," Teddy told him, "you and Scott have become quite close in the short time he's been here, and I could pick out no one better to walk Scott's bride down the aisle for him.

"It just seems a bit strange to me," Alfred admitted, "weddings were very small and private, so I haven't been to one since Lincoln married Mary Todd, and even that was a stretch for me to be there."

Teddy stared at Alfred, "how did you know Lincoln before he was President?"

Alfred shrugged again, "his mother is the one who convinced me that slavery was wrong, and I took a liking to her boy. That combination put Abe into politics, and a stupid man put Abe into an early grave."

"One of these days, you are going to need to write a book about the President's," Teddy remarked, "I know I would love to see what happened with each of them."

"But Teddy," Alfred grinned evilly, "then I'd have to talk about you too."

"Maybe you shouldn't do it then," Teddy laughed, "I'd hate to see what kind of things you'd say about me in there!"

Teddy grinned at his nation before starting to talk business again, "I've arranged for Mr. Kirkland's arrival to be in New York City, and I've given Scott an order to pick up at the local jeweler while he's up there. He should come home with some new wedding bands and be thrown head first into his wedding preparations."

Alfred's eyes gleamed, "you already put the bands on my account, didn't you."

"Of course," Teddy smirked, "America will always do anything to make ordinary citizens feel extraordinary. Especially when he has enough money stockpiled to last through anything."

America brushed some dirt off of his blue jeans, "anything else?"

"Just one more thing, Alfred, and then you may go back to trying to finish your mounds of paperwork," Teddy told him, "you are to report to the reserved dining room tomorrow evening at 5 o'clock for supper with me and Scott."

"Alright," Alfred said carefully, not sure why Scott would be invited to a private supper between the President and his nation.

"Make sure you are on time, Mr. Jones," Teddy told him seriously, "we have a lot of very important things to go over, and a great deal of them involve Mr. Kirkland."

Alfred stood up and nodded, recognizing that this was his queue to leave Teddy to his musings. "Will I see you for supper with Edith?"

Teddy nodded, "Alice could be there as well, it seems she is back from Ohio this week to help out with Scott's young bride."

"I feel bad for Ellie," sarcastic said Alfred, with a wink to his boss, "Alice won't take no for an answer when it comes to romance!"

"Don't let the papers here you say that!" Teddy said quickly, we have enough to worry about with her and the press…"

Alfred walked to the door and unlocked it, "I'd better go before I give you a heart attack, old man!"

Teddy coughed into his fist, "Sorry, Alfred, I didn't hear that. Want to repeat it louder?"

"No, sir!"

"I thought so. Your new jacket should be in sometime next week as well," Teddy suddenly recalled.

Alfred smiled as he opened the door, "I can't wait to see it!"

* * *

Dear Alfred,

Your country is still fully functioning, so I must assume that you are alive and well. However, your lack of communication would suggest otherwise. Alfred Jones, you haven't sent one piece of mail since your birthday LAST YEAR! Alfred, you cannot get caught up in so many fanciful daydreams that you forget to with your own brother a happy Christmas!

I wish I could be of more help to you when it comes to developing your airplane technology. I know you say that it is ours, but really Alfred, it was two American geniuses who figured it out in the end. Britain has been most carefully about making sure I can't send you any more information about helping you achieve better flight. I guess you were right, Alfred, you are a bad influence on your younger brother! Luckily, Britain has found no fault in my communications with Francis, so expect a rather large mailing from him with my latest findings. I believe passenger flight is possible front to back as well as side to side, we just need to prove it.

Alfred, have any of your nationwide tests shown anything? I do not doubt that it will be an unexpected child who will bring this world into the age of something extraordinary. We just need to find them. God help us if they are like you though, I don't think I could handle that. I have yet to convince Arthur of any need for national testing; I'm sorry.

Please tell me you are at least trying to mend things with Britain? I've heard that he's been in the pubs more often than when you revolted, Alfred. His king sounds quiet unstable as well, and we both know what an unstable boss can do to a country.

On a lighter note, those wonderful Wright brothers of yours set me a few photographs from 1903. Although we managed to make a passenger flight at night, the brothers know they cannot count it for anything. Which is a pity, because flying at night is a real thrill! I'm sending you one of the photos that clearly shows the two of us flying over the sand dunes at night, which if I remember correctly is when we were both trying to steer because you were going to crash us!

As always, with love

Your brother,

Matthew Williams

* * *

Scott pulled out the photograph from the envelope and smiled when he saw it. It clearly showed Alfred and Mattie panicking as they both tried to grab the main control for the airplane. Scott flipped the photo over and read the neat writing on the back.

Alfred Jones and Matthew Williams

Kills Devil Hills, North Carolina

December 17th, 1903 7:01 P.M

Thank you,

Orville and Wilbur Wright

_That's impossible._

_How could Mr. Williams have a brother, he's a country…the first flight wasn't until the 18__th__…_

_Although, if I recall correctly, Ludwig and Gilbert are brothers, but several hundred year separate them…_

_Can the countries be twins…?_

Scott paused in his mental musings as he heard the first of several keys turning in the locks on Mr. Jones' office door. Carefully he folded the letter and slipped it and the photograph back inside before tossing it carelessly back on the desk.

Alfred opened his office door and waved at Scott, "my meeting went just fine, yes I'll walk Ellie down the aisle, and no I haven't strangled Fairbanks yet."

"Sir, please don't take this the wrong way," Scott said carefully as he stood up and stretched, trying to remember that he couldn't give anything away yet, "but I have a request to ask of you that I would like you to fulfill immediently…"

"What is it Scott?" Alfred asked, stepping closer to his favorite office intern.

Scott again braced himself to say something to Alfred, "Please write to your brother."

Alfred's face went blank, "Excuse me?" That definitely wasn't what Alfred was expecting to hear.

"Your brother. You should write to him," Scott explained as he moved towards the door. Nervously he added, "Excuse me now, Mr. Jones, I have to get going. I shall see you tomorrow at supper."

"Aren't you coming in to work tomorrow morning?" Alfred asked, beyond his usual level of confusion.

Scott shook his head sadly, "I have to take my mother in to see the doctor."

"Good luck, Scott," Alfred said as he went to his desk and picked up the latest letter from Mattie with a sad sigh, "give my regards to your mother."

"Yes, sir, I'll do that, sir," Scott said before he closed the office door, leaving Alfred alone in his office with his brother's letter.

"What the hell?"

* * *

Dear Mattie,

I'm sorry. I can try to make it up to you, how about you come to my place in late June? I can give you a nice birthday present.

Until then, your hero of a brother,

Alfred F. Jones

* * *

**May 14th, 1908**

"Say it again!" Alfred screamed at the terrified looking female intern. He was poised to jump at any second, and Teddy was sitting at his desk, just as tense as Alfred.

She trembled, "the Wright brothers sent a message that they made a passenger flight today, sir."

Teddy slammed his fist down on his desk in excitement before getting up and clasping an excited Alfred by the shoulders, "Alfred, this means that the brothers can now demonstrate their plane to the government and France!"

Alfred clasped Teddy's hands quickly before he turned and grabbed the intern up in a huge hug, "I could kiss you right now if I knew you weren't going to slap me!"

"Sir, please let go of me," the intern protested weakly, take a deep breath as she edged towards the door in fear.

Alfred punched the air as he shouted in joy, "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Damn it yes!"

The intern watched Alfred jump around the President's office with a strange look on her face, "Sir, are you alright?"

"I'm better than alright, baby!" Alfred yelled loudly, jumping in the air and clapping his hands together.

"Sir!" the intern said, scandalized, "what have your manners gone!"

"They flew away on a passenger airplane, ma'am," Teddy handed Alfred a notepad, "write out the message you want to send to your brother, he has to know about this! France as well!"

WB copy AM

"What does this even mean?" Teddy asked as he looked at the messy message.

"Wright brothers copy Alfred and Mathew," Alfred explained as he handed the message off to the harassed looked intern, who took the message and bolted out of the office. "France and Mattie will know what that means when they see it."

Teddy looked out his windows with pleasure, "I'm glad that when Mr. Kirkland arrives, we will have something to show him for all our hard work."

Alfred stiffened slightly, "The combination of three countries is what did this, Teddy."

"I know, Alfred," Teddy said gently, "I know."

"Iggy's knickers are going to be a bunch after word of this gets out!" Alfred said with a smirk, "I can't wait to see his face when he gets here."

Teddy looked at Alfred, slightly worried, "Alfred, the whole world is going to hear about this. The connections with France are still strong, right?"

Alfred nodded, "Why, what is France going to do about it?"

"It depends on what he can swing with his government," Teddy said carefully, not wishing to give anything away.

"What?" was all Alfred had time to say before Teddy was shooing him out of his office.

"I'll see you tonight for supper!" Teddy called out his door as he closed it with a solid thunk.

* * *

"Your paperwork," Edward sniffed as he handed a thick stack of papers to Arthur.

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, and wondered what would happen if he just tossed it out the windows of the train on the way to Liverpool. Probably something not good.

Edward laid his hand on England's shoulder and grasped it firmly, "Don't fuck this up."

"Yes, Sire."

Edward nodded and left England alone on the emptying train platform.

It was time for England to go to America for the first time in over 100 years.

* * *

"Evening, Teddy, Scott," Alfred said politely as a maid let him into Teddy's private dining room.

Scott nodded his head, "Hello, Mr. Jones." Scott had several folders next to his place setting, Alfred could only assuming that they were filled with the sensitive information that Teddy had warned him about.

"Alfred," Teddy nodded, "I hope you are ready to answer some questions for us."

Alfred carefully hung up his black trench coat on the coat rack before carefully sitting down in his chair and smiling at the other two men, "Questions about what, Teddy?"

"Have you ever heard of a case where the country had no say it what was going on?" Teddy asked suddenly, "Ever?"

"Joan of Arc," automatically replied Alfred, "France couldn't do anything to save her."

Scott spoke up, "so the French government went against their national avatar?"

"French church," Teddy corrected, "but that would also imply the government followed the church's lead."

"Basically," Alfred said lazily, "How exactly is this important?"

Teddy waved his hand dismissively, "Scott has uncovered evidence that King Edward has launched a manhunt in Great Britain."

Scott glanced at the President, still the same timid office intern they had known, but with a hidden strength that was rapidly surfacing, "I believe," Scott interrupted coolly, "that it would be better to classify it as a nation hunt, Mr. President."

"What the hell!" Alfred said in shock, "You're supposed to be all shy!"

"When an issue hits you close to home, Mr. Jones," Scott said with narrowed eyes, "you tend to act in whatever manner fixes it sooner."

Alfred leaned back in his chair, "Alright, I'll save the questions for you until later then. Now, explain this nation hunt business."

Scott pulled a piece of paper out of one of his folders, "Mr. Jones, I think you'll want to read this."

Alfred took the paper with trepidation, "What's this all about?"

Teddy answered him as Alfred began to scan the paper, "the nation of Great Britain is missing, Alfred."

"How does a whole island go missing?"

Scott sighed, "Not the landmass. The person."

"I thought Arthur was coming for a visit in a few weeks!" Alfred demanded, "What the hell do you mean he's missing?"

Teddy spoke up, "King Edward has assured me that an Arthur Kirkland is being sent from the country to America. However, Scott has discovered some evidence that has me deeply concerned."

Scott nodded at the paper Alfred was ignoring, "that is a piece of information I intercepted from the King. He's currently looking for the national avatar for his country."

"Wasn't he at the coronation ceremony?" Alfred said, "I thought Edward was Victoria's son, how can he not know who Arthur is!?"

"We must brace ourselves for the possibility that the Arthur Kirkland being sent from England is an imposter," Teddy said sternly. "All attempts to contact the real Arthur Kirkland have failed. Even France hasn't seen him since Victoria's death."

Alfred held out his hand for the rest of the folder, "What the hell is going on in England?"

Scott handed the top folder to Alfred carefully, "King Edward has never seen the national reprehensive of his country. I am inclined to believe that it is intentional."

"Why would Arthur hide from his own King?"

"You're hiding from your own Vice-President, are you not?" Teddy told him, "I can only assume that Arthur is doing the same."

"However," Scott reminded them, "King Edward is also aware of existence of the nations. Fairbanks is not. Arthur must have been perfecting this act for a long time."

"What the hell is happening in Great Britain?"

* * *

****That's right everyone, I'm back! I'm sorry you guys have had to wait so long for such a...bad...chapter. I was under the illusion since school ended I'd be able to update every week or two. Two months later... On an upside though, chpt 4 is underway, and two of my friends are helping me figure out where certain events need to go for this story to flow. I know ya'll wanted some more time with Amelia this chpt, but I'm sorry, I could just not make her fit without the chpt just feeling wrong. She should get a pretty good chunk of the next chpt though, or possibly a whole (short) chpt to herself! Can anyone guess who Scott really works for, and why? Brownie points to the first person to get it right! (and possibly the honor of suggesting an event I have to include in the story)

If you guys want better story updates or anything, feel free to send me a PM with an email address and I'll add you to a mailing list with regular updates on the story (and possibly more sneak peeks), or you can check out my DeviantArt for updates! Sango-Armash is the name, and writing fanfiction is my game!


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